Young Stars
by Lore55
Summary: It was not the first time that she was born to be a queen. It was no the first time she had had to fight for her crown. It was, however, the first time she had met such bright people. People who shone like stars.
1. Beyond Death

**Here we go again! A bit of premise, this was inspired by a post I saw that put forth the prompt that two people keep getting reincarnated together, only instead of always falling in love they always hate each other.**

 **The setting at first the Malory Isles, which I made up completely. I own everything about them and everything in them except for the dungeon. The first few chapters have only oc's, but Sinbad shows up for a little bit after that.**

 **Feedback is welcome.**

* * *

"They're here! They're here! Ganieda, they're here! We're gonna be late!"

'Ganieda' rolled her eyes but ran after the smaller girl, her hand held tightly in Clarine's. Of all the names she had ever had, Ganieda was one of her least favorites. It lacked the elegance of Desiree, the power of Aadya. The beauty of Aluna. Ganieda was, for someone called Athanasia, very flat.

Even Clarine had a cute quality to it.

For someone two years younger, she was already taller, and probably twice as strong. Heaven knew how tall she would get when she was fully grown.

"And who's fault is that?" Athanasia teased, poking her sister's side with her free hand, "You're the one who wouldn't get out of the water when I told you to."

"Hey!" Clarine yelped and stumbled, giving the elder time to overcome her with a wicked grin. Clarine was tall, but it was a fawn's limbs. All length and no grace.

Athanasia was different. She was the exact height she was meant to be, which was why she couldn't outrun anyone her age, or younger in Clarine's case, without using a few less-that-noble tricks.

It was hardly befitting the title of Princess, but courts were anything but fair. If you wanted to stand in one, you had to have a sword poised over everyone else's head, and be weary of the one that swung above your own.

"I wonder what they brought in this time," Athanasia mused, casting a glance to see Clarine had recovered and was bounding at her side once more. Her hair, wet and unbound, snapped into the wind.

"Whatever it is, I want the prettiest thing in there," Clarine declared, her eyes alight.

Athanasia smiled at her and made a sharp turn around a rock, darting into the tall, flowering shrubs that bordered the road. The purple flowers hid them from the guards, high enough that only children could make their way through unseen. Clarine would probably outgrow it in a year.

The smaller girl was right at her heels when Athanasia scrambled up the wall of the gate house that edged the postern, pulling herself along vines that almost didn't support her growing weight, until she could run along the roofs that shaded the ramparts. There was a flat space where the two slanting sides of the roof came together, forming a path, or a space to set displays for parties, and it was that that she lead her sister along.

It needed to be tarred again soon, Athanasia thought idly. The pair of them slid down the slant, dropping onto the roof of the stables and sliding down again, until they were jumping off of barrels of fresh water, into the soft dirt below. It took only a few more minutes of running until they had ducked around the cook, run around the guards, and were sliding into Athanasia's room.

A sharp voice said, "You're late!"

They turned as one to see Sebille, their nurse, scurrying towards them with clothes in one arm and a basket in the other. Clarine whined while Sebille stuffed them into the formal gowns and heavy gold jewelry, brushing out their hair forcibly. Clarine, as the second princess, was free of the awkward crown that Athanasia was forced into.

It was a funny thing, with a thin band that was tucked beneath her hair and a gold plate the size of her seven year old hand that sat out on the left half of her head. It was shapes less like a plate and more like a water drop that was not quite heavy enough to fall. Flowers had been etched into it delicately, and it was reserved only for the Crown Princess.

"Go, go," Sebille shooed them out as soon as she was done and the pair ran out, their feet tapping lightly on the stone floor under the long, swishing skirts. The nurse came after them, a little slower.

They turned into the corridor and slowed in front of the guards and their velvet polished armor. Only the best of the best were awarded armor, strong metals were a scarce commodity in the their island home.

The pair of princesses slowed their pace to a crawling march and stood a little taller, the way they'd been taught.

They stepped in, through the massive double doors and into the ornately decorated room. They passed over the finely woven carpets, walking with Clarine three steps behind until the pair was could curtsey to their royal parents. Sebille dipped lowered, not meeting the eyes of the rulers.

Queen Loudine was a beautiful woman, graceful in all ways, in every movement and each soft, light word. Her smiles were muted and her skin was soft. Her words touched the air with as much effect as a feather. Her fine white dress was stretched across her stomach, let out to make room for her womb.

Her father was another matter. Albion wore power like most men wore clothes. It wrapped around his broad shoulders and settled upon his brow alongside the gold etched crown. The one that would one day sit on her own head.

She took her seat beside her mother, on an ornate chair carved of stone and painted in gold. Clarine sat to her left, her own throne gilded in silver. The girls sat perfectly, backs straight and chins lifted.

Light poured in from the open arches of windows that sat on the balconies above their heads. It gleamed off of the armor of the guards and the jewelry of the nobles that stood around them. The door opened at once, swinging to allow in a parade that belonged in a disney movie. Tightly woven baskets were filled with colorful shells, gold jingled and live stock was lead in. Hounds and ponies were paraded in front of the royals, along with the smallest elephants that Athanasia had ever seen.

It was just further proof that they were island people that the wildlife was so small. Unless it was that way in all of this world, but Athanasia doubted that highly.

She had seen this display seven times before, and she knew she would see it again, so she didn't pay too much attention to lavish gifts to the King of Kings, or the compliments paid to him. It wasn't until an old woman hobbled up, her hair lightened into mint, that Athanasia started to pay actual attention.

She wasn't in fine clothes, but she was followed by a procession of people that Athanasia had never seen before. The rest of the gathering parted like the red sea around them, leaving a wide berth.

The woman was flanked by three girls in front of the rest of the party. All of them were dressed in neutral grey, accented by white metal jewelry with black gems set into them.

"Who are they?" Clarine whispered loudly to Sebille, who hushed her quickly. Athanasia frowned. Sebille was normally very good about explaining things to the princesses. A glance at her parents revealed that Loudine had grown paler and Albion's jaw had tightened. The rest of the attendants hand started shifting uncomfortably, and the visiting nobles were busy keeping their children silent without taking their eyes off the newcomers.

Whoever this woman was, she had power here. And power, in a world with Kings and Queens, was everything.

"Great King Albion," her voice carried like a clap of thunder, "Great Queen Loudine, First Princess of Carleon Ganieda, and Second Princess Clarine. My daughters and I thank you for your welcome."

It was all a formality. The woman's eyes, dark brown with the beginnings of white starting to film over, locked onto the First Princess, who sat a little straighter.

"Queen Caelia," Albion's voice was stiffer than usual. "I am unaccustomed to seeing you without your King." There was, Athanasia had noticed, no Queen present without a King, other than Caelia.

"My son was unable to attend. In fact, that is the reason we are here. To cast a warning to all those who might venture to our Necropolis by way of the Wide Ocean," she cast her voice out. Athanasia's interest grew. "A great keep has appeared in the cove that leads entrance to our home for the Wide Ocean. Those who go near experience terrible visions. Those who enter, have not returned. Including my son, the King."

You could have heard a pin drop.

" _Magic_."

Albion's voice was chipped ice. A shiver ran down Athanasia's spine and she looked straight ahead, measuring her breaths. She hadn't even known that magic was a thing in this world.

"Yes," Caelia agreed. "Magic that stole my son and a dozen of our Priests."

Albion did not stand abruptly, he did not shout. He turned his eyes to the armored man to his left, the Guard Master. Athanasia did not know his name.

"Take a dozen of your best Cavaliers. I want to know what it is, and I want it gone."

The Guard Master bowed to him and turned to leave, only to stop short when Cealia spoke again, her voice harsh.

"Were you not listening? Anyone who goes in never returns. You send those men to their deaths, for no purpo-"

"If I send them to their deaths," he cut her off brutally. "Then they will be within the arms of the Dead Wings."

Caelia's mouth snapped shut and her eyes blazed. Murmurs erupted around them and Athanasia turned wide eyes on her father. Disrespecting those who ruled a necropolis was a mistake for anyone. Caelia drew herself up to a meager height.

"Your self obsession and disrespect will serve you ill in the next world, Great King," she hissed. A number of attending nobles stepped back and dipper a looping V across their chest.

"And your threats will do harm to your daughters in this world," Albion retorted. No one in the room breathed. Tension sparked like lightning.

Caelia did not dip a bow. She tilted her head, a dark look in the lines of her face, and swept away into the neutral sea that followed after her.

They vanished in the door, light shining off of white gold and black obsidian. It was a long, breathless minute before the next merchant stepped up, offering to Clarine a tiny elephant decorated in gold.

It was that day that Athanasia learned what her father feared most. The same thing she coveted and mourned.

Magic.

* * *

The first time Athanasia laid eyes on the necropolis she was ten.

It was beautiful in its own grim way. The island was centered around a grand mountain, as most islands were, and populate with tall trees and thick shrubbery. The part that stood out the most was the buildings that surrounded the mountain. And that was only if one overlooked the massive, foreboding sphere that sat in the center of the crescent islands' bay.

Built side to side, the city of the dead lifted above the rest of the island, sprawling over half of it. The architecture was fine and kept free of dirt and animals. Each structure was built with a gaping door that was edged with fine molding, and a family name placed above it in various stones.

Flowers and jewelry were laid in front of the tombs, and from her entry to the grave of Queen Chelinde of Huel she could assume that they were all set up to have a crypt with names scrawled across it in fine gems. For the Queen they had inlayed carefully cut stone of a fine green that danced in fire light.

Athanasia leaned closer to Sebille. Very quietly she asked, "What is that?"

The nurse looked to make sure they weren't being watched. When no one looked at her she said, "Kornerupine. It is the crown jewel of Huel."

Athanasia nodded and turned her white Lily around in her fingers. Clarine, to her right, held a black Tulip. Everything was balanced like that. There was an even number of black and white flowers. The people in attendance were dressed all in plain grey robes.

In front of the conglomeration, one that consisted of family, serfs, and fellow nobles only, stood Caelia. Queen of the Necropolis. She held a box a little over two feet across, inside of which lay the charred bones of the Queen of Huel. A finely crafted ossuary with flowers carved into its sides where it was not inlaid with more Kornerupine.

Athanasia had learned on the boat ride over that those outside the Bone Court were forbidden from knowing how the corpses were prepared. It was a sacred ritual and should outsiders intrude it would ruin it, and the souls would be trapped in the bones.

Athanasia knew better. The only person who's soul was trapped anywhere was her own.

She shifted closer to her nurse when the Queen of the Necropolis looked right at her. It was unnerving for one who would never see the afterlife to be under scrutiny of those who were connected to it. A hand touched her head and she glanced up.

Sebille was still very young. She couldn't be more than twenty five, if that. She was pretty, her hair the color of mint and her eyes a few shades darker. She was pretty too, her face was soft and still held some of her baby fat, from an easy life in the palace, she supposed. Or it was just what her body held onto.

Sebille was kind too. She answered almost any of Athanasia's numerous questions. She had a million and a half and Sebille was convinced her ' 'Eda' would know more than she did soon. Athanasia didn't have the heart to tell her that she already had 200 lifetimes worth of knowledge. All she needed Sebille for was to care about her and tell her about her new culture.

A culture that, apparently, included charring bones before placing them into a family crypt.

It made sense, she supposed as she lay her flower on top of the mausoleum. Islands only had so much room. Sea burials polluted the water, which couldn't be allowed in a society based on fish and plants. There wasn't room for graves the way they were traditionally used, and those weren't that good for environments either.

A necropolis wasn't a choice that Athanasia would have made. They would run out of room too eventually, and the people who had to live around it were surrounded by the dead.

A hand slipped into hers and Athanasia looked over at Clarine. The eight year old looked frightened.

She squeezed her sister's hand. "It's okay," she promised. "Death isn't the end."

Indeed, it was only the beginning.


	2. Respect

The army of the Malory Isles was beautiful. The high ranking soldiers had shining, velvet polished armor. Beneath them stood those in finely tooled leather, and at the bottom were young people in plain clothes. Boys and girls, they all stood in dark green and liquid black. Polished wood made up their staffs while shining metal daggers were sheathed at their belts.

Athanasia leaned on the roof of the guard house, watching the ranks march in. From the broadest leader to the smallest recruit, they stood with straight backs and forward facing eyes. Well trained.

There was no luxury to their garb, she noted. It was plain cloth, not silk or satin, or the fine goat cloth that draped around the royal family.

Athanasia crept along the roofs, watching them march in to present themselves to Albion.

They went through drills, showing off staff and knife work in mock duels. Athanasia picked her way down to roof of the stables, waving to the guards who saw her clinging to ivy. She was still a bit too small for her own taste, but it served her purpose for now.

Until she was standing at the edge of the stable, watching two boys face off. They were fast, their blows were hard, and they were only a little older than she was. From where she stood Athanasia could see a bruise on the edge of the taller ones cheek, beneath where his short hair cut off.

A second later she understood why it was there.

The shorter boy spun with a dancer's grace, turning under the opposing staff and smacking him sharply across the face. Athanasia cringed her sympathy.

To his credit, the taller did not stumble. He winced before he set his jaw and shoved the smaller away. They stepped back, dipped their heads, and moved in again in another bout.

Athanasia did not move from her place near the horses. She pet the velvet nose of the one she called Dell and whispered her admirations to him. She was positive that Igerna, the stable girl who always smiled sweetly when their eyes met, was listening in.

A soft clink of metal confirmed her suspicions, and Igrena's head poked out of the stall to look at the princess. Athanasia peered at her out of the corner of her eye before she smiled at the girl, who ducked away. They were almost the same age, and they were so far apart.

Athanasia, a princess with curling green hair and eyes of the same shade, who could only touch the horses when her parents weren't' watching or they were on precession.

Igrena, a slave of blonde hair and brown eyes, who could not leave the horses if she wanted to.

Athanasia loved horses. A thousand lifetimes ago she had broken sacred law and taken her horses through the Games, chariot bouncing beneath her feet and reigns held tight in her hands. A thousand lifetimes ago she had bared herself to the world with her brothers encouragement and burned her name into history for a great deed.

She wondered, idly, of these boys before her would do the same.

Athanasia was broken out of her musings when a staff was shoved in her chest. She startled, looking up at one of the boys, who was barely paying her attention as he and his sparring partner moved to gather the reins of horses that Igrena had brought out.

"Clean my brother's staff well," the bruised one ordered her shortly.

The little slave girl stared wide eyed at her princess, who accepted the other staffs shoved at her. This was a very surreal moment, and she wondered idly if this was what it was like for Igrena. To be looked at but not seen.

Athanasia leaned the staffs on a wall and, with a smile tossed at Igrena, she ran off, scrambling up the walls and onto the battlements, right in front of one of the guards. The two boys were too preoccupied with leading mounts out that they didn't notice the girl disappearing at all.

"When I'm older," she told him, "We're going to refortify this place. Or an army of kids is going to take us down."

The guard, whose name she had never been given, smiled indulgently at her and said simply, "Yes Princess."

The little girl went running off.

* * *

It was later that eve that she found herself sitting in her small throne, beside her mother. The seat that was situated beside her father was reserved for a fidgeting boy of only four. Galatyn had no patience and even less interest in the goings on of his country.

He was much more intrigued with sailors stories and warriors practices. Athanasia did not fault him for it. In fact she understood his interest quite well. The fact of the matter was, the classes taught by the Royal Tutor, Alator, were so boring that even someone as thirsty for knowledge as Athanasia was could be lulled into sleep. And she wasn't a four year old who wanted to be nothing more than a traveller.

"Great King Albion, Great Queen Loudine, Great Prince Galatyn, First Princess of Carleon Ganieda, and Second Princess Clarine," the voice of the General carried through the room, echoing through her bones and shaking them though it was he and the two children at his side who bowed. "We thank you for your welcome."

"It is We who thanks you for your brave service, General Duran," her father recited with no truth to his voice. Athanasia very pointedly did not frown at him. Instead she faced straight forwards, eyes locked on the men.

The two boys, one with a mark under where his hair stopped falling. The ones who had handed their practice staffs off to a princess and now held new, shining ones at their right sides.

Thom and Cei.

"We would ask the honor of demonstrating the best of your future army," Duran said, gesturing to the boys behind him. They were in finer clothes now, but ones that would be easy to move in and would not be ruined by sweat.

Ganieda's father fixed them both with a hard, chilling stare that made the boys stiffen up past even their former Attention.

"Very well," the king consented, inclining his head. "Begin."

Duran tossed a glance behind him and just like that the two boys were throwing themselves at eachother, power and skill in each move, in each crack of wood against wood. They would be powerful.

Athanasia took a breath and looked down at her small, soft hands. They were not even pricked by needles. No callouses existed, no muscles worked beneath her skin. Her power was in her name alone and she knew all too well how quickly monarchy's shifted. How often the names of a ruling clan changed.

Power was everything in this world. Power was everything in every world.

She took a breath and turned.

'Ganieda' smiled up at her father with a child's pride. He was a ruler, he needed soldiers and warriors to keep the peace and she was an heir, or could produce them at the very least. It would only make sense that she should live. It seemed a perfectly reasonable statement to her.

"I would be of them," she pointed to the pair who she had been speaking of. The two boys, still sparring. The man, their minder, teacher, and general. Father as well, she figured. Two of the three looked enough alike, and they had called themselves brothers. That was good enough for her.

Her father narrowed his eyes at her. Her mother looked aghast and paled beyond the soft pink of her fine clothes.

"You will do no such thing," his voice was sharper than she had ever heard.

Athanasia stood up straighter and frowned at him.

"There's no reason for me not to. I saw a girl come in in their uniform. She wore their symbol, if she can then so can-"

"You will have nothing to do with them," he snapped.

Her mother added, gently, "think of all the mud you'll be tracking in, and how rough your hands will be."

"I don't care about that!" Athanasia argued. She had been a soldier before. She knew their aches, their pains, their sorrows. She knew their strength and pride.

"Your blood is too old to be spilled in a field," her father retorted.

The girl stepped towards him, anger bubbling in her small chest. How dare he say such things? Especially when his own warriors stood in the room, staring at him with as much surprise as she.

"Who care's whose blood it is! It's not like you can't have more heirs to inherit your land. Blood is blood, if it is spilled then mine is worth no more than his," she pointed to the smaller of the boys. She saw the flash in her father's eyes before his hand came down and her face snapped sideways. Her ear rang sharply and her face stung smartly.

Her mouth was open, shocked. She could see, out of the corner of her eye the steadying hand the old general put on his trainees shoulders when they moved closer. Her mother's gasp was silent to her, her dark eyes wide with horror.

"No daughter of mine will lower herself to such measures," His voice was as cold as ice, "You will never speak of this again, and you will banish any delusions you have to inheritance. That is a man's place. Not yours. "

A mans place. Why did it matter for her, but not the girl in the army? Why did it make a difference if she spilled blood or the people she was born to lead did? What made a princess worth more than a soldier girl?

Athanasia bowed her head to mock submission. She hid her burning eyes from him, pressed her lips together so she would not bare her teeth like the animal that clawed to be released upon him.

"I understand," she said simply.

She understood all right. If he would not give her power, if he would not award her respect, she would take it from him by force. If she had to force her voice loud and harsh enough that an assembly would listen to her, she would. If she had to raise an army and drag him into the streets he owned, she would. If she had to make herself smaller to hide her poison laden rings she would. But she would not let go of this disrespect.

And she would not let go of her claim to his crown.


	3. Magical Meetings

**Lazy-Potato-101: Thanks!**

 **amgs: that's super sweet of you to say, omg! Her past lives are definitely going to affect how she interacts with people, and there's no way this girl is going to let ruling stay a boys club! I'll definitely be going more into her past lives, but not for a while yet ^^**

 **Mary D. Black2000 : Thanks!**

Loudine was the picture what a Malory Queen should be. She was beautiful and graceful, deferred to her husband in all matters. It was no surprise that she had been chosen as a match for the King of Carleon. She reminded her eldest child of a doe. She was beautiful and graceful, but she ran in the face of danger. If not physically, then mentally.

Athanasia had never seen Albion, who was her father no longer, raise a hand to Loudine, but she knew the sting of his hand now and while Athanasia was a vicious blade sheathed in cashmere Loudine did not have millennia of memory to lend her strength and knowledge. She did not have, and never had had, a society that would give her power over herself. Neither of them did, and Loudine did not have the burning rage or the raw ambition to push her into taking that power from those who did have it.

She did not have it in her to protect her children in a direct confrontation.

Athanasia had seen it the day Albion slapped her. She had seen the horror in her mother's eyes, but she recognized her earlier appeasement for what it was, in hindsight. An attempt to spare her daughter pain, and direct her away from perceived hardship.

It was for this reason and this reason alone that she took Clarine into the Queen's private chambers one a day where her husband was out observing beds of Ground Sloths on Eildon.

The pair slipped in, leaving Galatyn behind with Gorlois, his soon-to-be Training Master when the Prince began his path to becoming a Cavalier, the first Great King to hold the title in four generations.

Clarine, who was indeed much taller than 'Ganieda' these days, gripped her sister's hand tightly. Athanasia didn't shake her off or pull away. Clarine had every right be afraid, after what they had learned the week before.

Loudine was sitting in a straight backed chair, for once devoid of the attendants that tended to flock around her. Her long, canary dress pooled around her heels while her hair was piled high, braided above her delicately cut circlet.

Carleon did not its own central gem the way the other fifteen members of the Malory Isles did. Instead the crown of the King and Queen had Gypsum, selenite in particular, inlaid into the double helix that raced around the circlets. The Kings ended in an apple blossom. The queens, in diamond, both made of the same inlaid stone. How it was done, Athanasia did not know. One of the few things she had never been was jeweler.

Her fellow had been born to a family of jewelers in their beginning, but she would shoot herself in the foot before she asked _him_ for anything. `

When Loudine saw her children she smiled and held out her arm, thin fingers slid from fluid cashmere and the massive bell sleeves that were traditional to noble women. The longer the sleeves, the more one was worth, or so Athanasia had observed.

The eldest daughter took her mother's hand with her free on and pulled her sister closer. Clarine had taken to Albion in height and in the stubborn set of her jaw, while 'Ganieda' doubted she would ever surpass either parent in height.

"What are you girls doing in here today?" the queen asked, her voice soft, "The sun is so bright. Why not go play in it?"

It was true that they didn't have any lessons today. They could have gone running in the forest or swimming in the ocean, Galatyn trying to keep up. They could have raced across the open fields that dotted the landscape, leapt atop the pigmy elephants that farmers kept where pony's thin legs were more risk than help. They could have skipped stones in the hot springs that pooled around the mountain.

Instead, they stood before their mother with words in their mouths that neither could speak.

Finally, Clarine reached over to the jug of water that sat away from the queens dress hem. She poked it, and all the water inside froze solid. Frost laced across the outside.

Athanasia looked straight at her mother, watched her eyes grow wide and her breath come to a halt. The hand in her started shaking before it stilled and gripped her tightly.

For the first time in her memory Athanasia saw the queen sink down, onto the floor, to pull her daughters into the folds of her massive sleeves. The cloth fell across them, thin and long, obscuring both from view. A wall. A protection.

"My girls," she whispered, so quiet the wind wouldn't hear her. "My beautiful daughters. Fate has been cruel to us."

Athanasia turned her face into her mother's shoulder. Fate had nothing to do with her condition. Fate had no say in what became of her. It was not Fate that dictated her pains. It was Karma, and the Gods of the Afterlife.

"You must not tell your father," she went on, "No one can know, little Clarine. No one can know what we are."

A beat before Athanasia drew back to stare at Loudine, her soft eyes and her sad smile.

' _We'_.

They three. Magicians.

* * *

Athanasia wasn't expecting to find a foreign ship in port. In fact, it was nearly unheard of to find one. The Malory Isles were largely self reliant, and almost totally cut off from the outside world. They did not deal with outsiders beyond what was absolutely necessary, and what diplomacy was performed happened off their sandy shores.

She was thirteen within this life and this was the first time she had ever seen a ship that did not fly the colors of her people. Gold, green, and a pale cream. An apple blossom was plastered across a gold background, with green leaves stretching out on either side.

This ship was massive. It was no skiff to carry small groups from one island to the next. No dory that brought home fish. Not even a massive barge that carried goods about.

No, no, no. This was a massive boat. A trader's ship with sails as blue as the ocean itself and a hull larger than any others it passed when it came into the Carleon docks.

The ships of the Malory Isles were used mostly to transport foods, textiles, citizens and slaves, and with the distance between one island and the next there was no need for them too be as massive that one that had just come into port.

Even their military ships were smaller, but given that her country ventured into the outside world less often than the moon eclipsed the sun, there was no need for their to be massive sailing vessels for war. What the Malory Navy possessed was speed and swiftness, and gunpowder.

So to see a ship like this was certainly out of the question. There was no one reason she could think of for someone to be there. They had no alliances with countries outside there own. Partially because of the distrust and hatred of magic and partially because they did not need them. The Malory Isles were almost entirely self sufficient. The only time someone came to call on them were in times of plague.

The men that she watched step off the ships were strange, to be sure, but they were not sick. Not the blue man, or the three teenage boys who walked in the lead.

Their cheeks were not shallow, their skin was unsallowed, and their eyes were wide with wonder but not bloodshot. So why, she wondered, were they there?

"Don't," she warned without looking. Galatyn stopped short, one foot off the ground, and looked over at his sister, pouting.

"But 'Neida," he whined, "I just wanna look at the ship."

"Gal, you know you'll get scolded if you go over there," she reminded him.

"Not if you go with me," he shot her a pleading look, all big brown eyes and sad, baby cheeks.

Athanasia sighed. He wouldn't get yelled at if he went over with her, because she was the one responsible for him and so she would be the one scolded. Not that she gave two shits was Albion said about propriety.

"We should go back and fetch their Grace," Sebille interjected, "they need to be notified. You know this, Ganieda."

"Stop being such a worry wart," Clarine scolded their nurse. She was already halfway down the street without any of them noticing. Sebille made a horrified sound in the back of her mouth and ran after the long legged girl.

"Princess! Come back, please!" she called.

Galatyn was still looking at her. He looked like he was going to die if she kept him from the outsiders.

"Go," she pointed ahead of them, to the outsiders down the road from where they had been inspecting a new sweets shop. Now it was forgotten in the excitement of something new. Children knew little fear, Galatyn least of all.

And so he ran, face bright and eyes alight. Curious as a cat with a death wish.

Athanasia handed a silver coin to the poor, confused boy behind the counter of the shop and took a bag full of hard honey candies. And with that bag tucked into one of her wide sleeves, not as wide as they were at formal events, she turned and ran after her brother and sister.

The dress she wore outside of the castle was short enough to let her legs out, enough not to hinder her at all, and so when she ran after her brother and sister it was easy to catch up. Unengaged, her hair swept back behind her in the wind.

It twisted and fell around her cheeks when she came skidding to a stop, her hard wooden sandles digging into the docs next to Sebille.

Galatyn had already ambushed the traveller with the most metal on his person, a ginger boy in armor, and was circling him like a shark. The young man, who looked to be carrying a lance of all things, tried to turn to follow him but Galatyn was much to excited to be kept up with. His words were even a garble of their native tongue pronounced beyond what even a local would know.

So it was to no surprise that the poor armored boy appeared totally lost.

"Pardon me," Athanasia began, drawing eyes to her, "but, what are you doing here?"

When they stared at her blankly she tried again in an older tongue that her tutor insist she learn. Still nothing.

A hand touched hers and Athanasia glanced to its owner as her fingers were brought to soft lips. A charming smile filled with sunlight touched her skin and violet braids withheld hair from framing a pretty face.

When he spoke it was in a language she hardly recognized, but one she knew.

For most people linguist evolutions were almost impossible to predict to control. Things changed with the time, with needs, and adapted to different generations, added languages, and new teachings.

For someone as old as Athanasia, for someone who had witnessed so many worlds change and so many languages develop and blossom from their roots, it was all too easy to catch onto.

And so, with a rough accent and broken congregations she repeated her question, and delicately removed her hand from the new comers.

"We are merchants," the purple boy declared, "Journeying the atlas for aliens and probabilities."

….or maybe she wasn't as good as she thought.

"Sebille," Athanasia looked at her nurse, "Would you please fetch Igerna?"

Sebille balked, drawing up. "The slave girl?" she sounded incredulous.

"She was a gift to the king from a traveller, if you recall. She might speak the language of these strangers," Athanasia explained, gesturing vaguely.

"We should tell the king of these intruders, not fetch shackled translators," Sebille argued.

Athanasia frowned at her. She hated ordering people about, Sebille most of all, but Albion would send these men on their way before Galatyn had even gotten to have a single question of his answered. And, Athanasia wanted to know of the rest of the world too.

"Please, Sebille?" she inquired instead of demanding.

Galatyn appeared at her side and said, "Please, stable?" He was still working on talking.

"Pretty please, Sebille?" Clarine added, poking her head above both of theirs.

The nurse's face fell and she looked hesitant, conflicted, but she did nod and turn to leave. Back the long road to the palace. Once she was gone from sight Athanasia pointed to an opposing road, one that lead out of town and away from where the Cavaliers were no doubt advancing from, intent on interrogating or driving off these curious visitors. For Galatyn's sake, and also her own, she would allow no such thing to occur.

"Follow," she said, and hoped it meant what she thought it did. Even if it didn't the gesture she gave with her hand convinced them of her intention and the trio trailed after her. She wasn't worried about Sebille finding them. The woman knew all of their usual spots, including the one they ventured to that day.

It was a cove, small and guarded well by the curves of the land. Sloths roamed the trees that hid it from the rest of the island and silver fish darted in the shallow water. There was not enough depth for a ship to get in, and a canoe would be hard pressed to hold enough people to be a threat to her and her siblings.

So they gathered there, taking these strangers with them.

The first thing she did upon entering the privacy of their cove, which they called Fan for it's shape, was hold a hand to her chest.

"Ganieda," she said, before pointing to her brother and sister in turn, "Galatyn, Clarine." She pointed to the land under their feet. "We live on Carleon, in the Malory isles."

The violet haired boy grinned at them and slapped his own chest. "Sinbad! And there are Ja'far, Hinahoho, and Mystras. It's a horror to melt you!"

Athanasia hoped that Sebille arrived soon, or this was going to be a very long, very confusing conversation.

"Carleon, of Malory?" one of the other boys, a cute child with white hair and freckles, scrunched up his nose in confusion. Athanasia supposed she had said it wrong. She dropped to her knees and stuck a finger in the sand, so she could draw a picture of their little chain of islands.

She pointed to the biggest one and said, "Carleon," before patting the ground beside her. Then circled the whole chain and said, "Malory," and swung her arm around towards the other islands. Only Eildon and Huel were visible, but they must have understood, for Sinbad's face lit up like a lighted candle.

He was quite the handsome young man. She could see his charm working on other ladies, but there was something about him that told her to keep a distance. Not a danger, not a feeling of foreboding, but a warmth. Like a pot on a stove not yet boiling.

An interesting boy. She would have to keep an eye on him.


	4. Gathering Stories

Athanasia had never been so angry with Sabille than she was when the woman brought, instead of Igerna, the Royal guards to take all of them back to her father's palace. For the entire walk back she refused to look at her while Galatyn was crying quietly from where she held him at her side.

Even when she tried to follow the princess into her room to help her dress for the court that would be gathered to meet these merchants, she was rejected. Athanasia felt little guilt for shutting the door in her face.

She donned the long, heavy skirts, and the massive bell sleeves. She left her hair unbound and applied her ornament all on her own, before dressing Clarine as well. They were both very irritated at their nurse.

How could she betray them to their father?

The princesses walked, heads high, into the room to take their place by their father. The rest of the court gathered and, with the best scholars present to translate, they demanded the travellers intention.

"I am Sinbad," the leader declared, "And I want to offer you a place in our trading company."

There was a murmur through the crowd.

Athanasia's eyes were drawn to the boys sword. It shown with magic. Magic was not permitted on the islands, and she had to wonder if anyone else could recognize it without it being used. There was something familiar about the shine that came off of it, but she could not place it.

Her frown was barely noticeable, but it got her mother's attention. Loudine glanced at her, but did little more than touch her shoulder. Athanasia leaned into the contact, however briefly.

Ablion scoffed.

"Leave," he demanded, loudly. "You are not welcome here. Outsiders bring nothing but trouble. You are not welcome here."

"Please," the white haired boy stepped forwards, "Lets us trade with you! You have the most advanced medicines in the world! If we could spread that to other people, thousands could be-"

"That is not my concern," his voice sliced through the air, a knife in the hopes of these boys. "My people have survived this long on our own. We don't need anything that could be offered to us, and we will give no charity."

"At least give us time enough to restock our supplies," Mystras weaseled.

Albion narrowed his eyes at the teenagers before he nodded curtly.

"You have one week," he declared. It was the greatest kindness Athanasia had ever seen him bestow upon a person. And wasn't that just pathetic?

* * *

"This is a bad idea," Athanasia warned, but she did nothing to deter the boy from creeping across the roof. She was right at his back, ready to catch Galatyn if his footing slipped. Clarine gripped her other hand, holding on tight.

"We be 'kay," he assured. The trio spirited themselves away, into the forest that surrounded the castle in which they lived, out into the darkness. They moved quietly, small feet padding against the soft earth beneath them. They made their way past giant sloths dozing for the night, and the elephants fields. No one caught them. Not even when they ran through the docks to get to the ship, though that may have had more to do with people looking the other way for the royal children than it did their own abilities at stealth.

The ship was large. She had never seen anything quite like it as far as this world went. It wasn't from anywhere near them, that was something she could be absolutely certain of.

She could admire it later. Right then she lead her sibling towards the light that spilled out of the open door that lead below deck. None of them dared bring Igerna with them. Athanasia had forbidden it. They would pay only a small price, but a slave girl could be killed for the offense of disobeying the king's order that contact be kept to a minimum.

She knocked politely.

The door opened and Sinbad peered out. He smiled widely when he saw the three royal children standing before him. He offered his hand to Athanasia, who placed her own in it and smiled, just a bit, when he kissed her knuckles once more.

"Hello, princess!"

Now she had a better understanding, even from that small encounter in the palace.

"Hello," she repeated. Galatyn launched himself into the room, breaking past her and Sinbad both. He barely acknowledge the other people in there, too busy was he with inspecting the furs on the walls and the crates. The rugs rolled up in one corner, a plate of fruit he'd never seen on the table. Her brother wanted to know everything there was about this world, and heaven help anyone who thought they could deter that.

He didn't care much for his tutors, who were obsessed with rules and the history only of their country. He wanted to know about the world itself, about far away lands and the people who lived there. Customs besides the lengths of a ladies sleeve or what flower graced the head of which king, what stone dictated which island of origin.

Athanasia didn't blame him. There had been life times where she hadn't given two shits about what people wanted her to learn. Times where it was all so mundane that she would just walk away and damn it all to whoever wanted her to sit still and listen to the quadratic formula for the eight hundredth time.

This time, she didn't have that fuck all attitude. This time she was clawing her way into power.

"Please," she said, slowly, "Tell us about the outside world."

And so they did. They talked about where they had been. Where Mystras was from, the land Hinahoho had come from.

They sounded nice. A country in the mountains where religion reigned supreme. Mystras didn't speak of it with much fondness, and he had a hard time making eye contact with Athanasia and Clarine. She didn't mind.

A country in the north covered in frost, where men and women were giants, and could spend hours underwater without a break. Where there was snow all the time and cold. The opposite of the tropical isles they stood on now.

One look at Galatyn's face and she knew that he was in love with the idea. She was sure some of her translations were wrong, but that didn't matter. He wanted to see absolutely everything. And she would find a way that he would.

Her own inheritance had been stripped of her, and Clarine would not be there long enough for her to become queen. Which meant that Galatyn was going to be the next Great King of Carleon and the Malory Isles.

He would hate that.

"What about this country," Ja'far asked, "What is it like?"

To that, Athanasia had to think.

"We are a chain of islands united under my father's crown. Each island has its own king, and its own queen. Along with that, each island has its own crown. The stone of Carleon is a selenite," which was soft enough to scratch with a nail. "Clarine is next in line for our thrown, and her betrothed. Or, whoever that winds up being.

Um, we have sloths and elephants, we mainly eat plants, fish and birds. And our medical knowledge had wiped out almost all illnesses that once plagued us."

"Would you show us the island tomorrow?" Sinbad asked, offering her an award winning smile.

Athanasia should have said no, probably. Any good princess, any obedient daughter would.

Instead, she smiled.

"Of course."

It was then that Sebille appeared in the doorway, looking harried. She was in her nightgown. Athanasia felt only a little pity that the nurse maid had had to run all the way here in her night clothes. If she had listened before this wouldn't be an issue at all.

Really, if people would just listen to her, things would be so much easier for all of them.

"I came to fetch you," she said, frowning down at the three royal children. Galatyn pouted at her.

"Just one more story? Please?" he pleased, reaching for her hand.

Sebille faltered, looking down at the wide, pleading eyes of the child. And her face melted into something of a softening. One that Athanasia knew meant that they had won the fight to get their 'one more story'. One more was never enough.

Athanasia turned to them and, minding her words, she said, "Will you tell one more tale?"

Sinbad grinned and stood up, drawing his sword. Sebille stiffened and grabbed Athanasia's shoulder, and she sunk back to put a hand on her sisters stomach. Ready to act if it came down to it, however much she doubted that it would. A light poured forth from the blade and she had to squint against it. She knew that glow.

"I'll tell you how I, Sindbad, captured the first Dungeon!" he declared. Athanasia tried to translate as best she could.

She didn't know how she missed the interest that Sebille payed.


End file.
